iron bars will bend and break
by wild wolf free17
Summary: Anthology of oneshots. Mostly Ben or Alec based, with a few Supernatural crossovers, as well.
1. cat in a cage

Each of these will stand alone, with warnings, pairings, and notes in the heading.

* * *

**Title**: cat in a cage

**Disclaimer**: not my characters.

**Warnings**: none

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 325

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

Alec hates being caged. He hated it as 494, back at Manticore, when he slept in a concrete box like all the X5s. He was luckier than Max, though—he wasn't alone. Listening to the others breathe, he could forget the walls.

Cats are solitary creatures, but some are more social than others. Alec doesn't know what's in his cocktail, which of the great predators he's got swimming in his blood, but he hates small spaces. He hid it at Manticore, a weakness he couldn't let the handlers know about. After the Berrisford debacle, after 493's madness—no. Any more problems and he'd be used for spare parts.

He's out now, though. He's free and his own man. He can go where he wants, when he wants; he can do _what_ he wants.

And then White shoves him in a cage. Alec wakes already feeling trapped and wishes he had claws to sink into his captor's belly. He snarls low in his throat, but he is an actor. He'll play White long enough to get away and then he'll make a tactical retreat.

And then he's trapped by an explosive in his neck. He wants to scream and rip White apart, but even a tiger(is he part tiger?) can't take on a dozen guns and come out alive.

Alec survives, though. He always survives. Max hates him, but he looks like her dead brother, so he doesn't expect that to change.

_Leave_, the cat whispers. _New territory_.

And he should, he knows. What appeal does Seattle have? Max and White, and memories of Rachel. No reason to stay.

But he doesn't leave. Only Normal seems to actually like him, but he refuses to flee. He can go where he wants, when he wants, and he won't be chased away.

He's not caged anymore. The cat grumbles, _Stupid cub_, but Alec is determined to see this through. He's free. It's his choice now. And he chooses to stay.


	2. by firelight

**Title**: by firelight

**Fandom**: Dark Angel/Supernatural

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: AU for Dark Angel; AU future!fic for Supernatural

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 530

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Orange

* * *

Ben stares into the flames, curled up near the fire. He's mostly warm, but his back is to the wilds and he's slightly nervous.

"Don't worry," his older self says without turning, face towards the darkness. "Nothin' will bother us tonight."

Ben doesn't react. He trusts his older self—mostly. Surely the Lady wouldn't have sent him a dangerous guide. But he's been on his own for over two years. Since the escape. And his older self is… frightening. He's already fought off half a dozen nomlies while Ben froze. (_their eyes, their eyes, color of a midnight sky, color of bone, bright, bright as sunlight_) But his older self simply waded into them and ripped them apart, quick as lightning and quieter than the cat in their shared blood.

"Call me Dean," his older self said, covered in gore. "It'll keep things simple."

They've traveled together for six days and nights now. Once, Ben woke up curled next to his older self, with Dean's arm around his shoulder, hand over Ben's heart. He stayed still until Dean moved away, but he thought about that moment almost constantly. He felt—safe. Warm, where Dean touched him.

He wonders how it would feel to let Dean hold him like he's seen normal parents hold normal children.

But instead of saying anything like that, so weak and childish, he asks, "Why are we going northwest?" He knows this is the way he fled in a panic, barely remembering his training to evade recapture. He would have never come back, except his older self has steadily gone west, gone north since he saved Ben from the nomlies. (_he's young, he's strong, he's oursoursours, brimstone and starlight_)

"You have a twin still in that place," Dean says. His voice is sharp, the words clipped. Ben knows his hands are clenched into fists and he's glaring at something. Nomlies in his past, maybe.

"We're going to get him out," Dean continues. "And then…"

Ben uncurls and goes to him, leaning into his side. Dean looks down, and his eyes soften. He loosens his fists and Ben stands still as he lifts a hand to place it on Ben's head.

"What happens after we save him?" Ben asks.

His older self smiles. "Then I start another war," he says. "Just as futile, but hopefully not as endless."

He shoots one more look around their camp then glances back at Ben. "C'mon, Benji," he says. "Let's get some sleep. Nothin'll bother us 'til sunup."

Ben lets Dean steer him back to the fire. Dean waits while Ben finds another comfortable spot and drops next to him, barely touching him.

Dean seems to hesitate before saying, "It might get cold tonight."

Ben thinks for a moment, watching his older self from the corner of his eye. He remembers his siblings, how they piled together. He slept better those nights.

So he shifts closers to Dean, and Dean wraps his arms around Ben, cheek against the crown of Ben's head, and Ben dreams that night of him and his twin, battling nomlies, and Dean back-to-back with a man he calls Sammy, laughing so loud it fills the sky.


	3. kill was tangled into her beginning

**Title**: kill was tangled into her beginning

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: post-series, character death

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 210

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Dark Angel, Alec/Max, Public Enemies

* * *

They are the faces that the public sees, and they look human. Like people on the street, in the grocery store, the next-door-neighbors. They are beautiful, yes, but _human_.

Max is the little girl who overcame her beginnings to make something of herself and Alec is the home-town football hero, and they get the everyday normals rooting for them.

The transgenics who look less human, Joshua and Mole and all the rest, watch as Max and Alec pave the way for them. Soon enough, there is even an uneasy peace and the barricades come down.

And then White assassinates Max. Alec cradling her body is all the news shows for days. The look on his face is painfully, heartbreakingly human. And his reaction is understandable.

It's no longer a hidden war, the transgenics versus familiars. And when Alec reveals White as no more human than himself, the humans turn on White and his kind, just like they'd been against the transgenics at the beginning.

Max is eventually a legend, immortalized as their messiah. Joshua tells her story for as long as he lives.

Alec leaves after the war is won and eventually all anyone knows is that he once stood beside Max and held her as she died.


	4. cloning and kids

**Title**: cloning and kids

**Fandom**: Supernatural/Dark Angel

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: AU for Dark Angel; future!fic for Supernatural with vague spoilers for season 5

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 145

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Supernatural-Dark Angel crossover. Because you can never have too much Dean and Alec interaction! Plus, bonus - add Ben for triple your fun. *g*

* * *

The kid is slick, working the room like a pro. His brother is perched in the corner, sharp eyes wary for any hint of danger, of the mood turning south.

Dean smirks into his beer while Sam rolls his eyes. "Why are so many copies of you runnin' around?" he asks.

Shrugging, Dean says, "I guess I'm just too pretty."

The brother's eyes flick over and Dean catches his slight reaction. The kid playing pool glances his way; his response is slightly more obvious.

Dean waves at the brother, then the kid. Sam rolls his eyes again.

The kid saunters over first, his brother slinking in his wake, and they settle across from Dean and Sam.

Dean straightens in his seat as Sam lowers his bottle. Dean studies the two kids wearing his face and wonders if Hell or Heaven is involved this time.


	5. to be my own king

**Title**: to be my own king

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun.

**Warnings**: AU for "Proof of Purchase"; character death; dub-con; spoilers for season two

**Pairings**: White/Alec

**Rating**: PG13

**Wordcount**: 350

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

Her gasp as the knife plunged into her eye doesn't haunt 494. He'd killed before, violently, so she was just another in a line. Ames White doesn't remove the explosive at 494's brainstem, though he does stop the timer.

"You're mine, 494," White tells him. "Do as I say—or die."

.

494 is sent after transgenics. He kills each target. He's sent after humans; they are no hardship.

He is a predator, a hunter. He was created for this. He is good at it.

He's kept at a facility very similar to Manticore. Sometimes, he forgets he ever left.

.

"You _should_ have a name," White tells him one day after another successful mission.

494 doesn't respond, just watches White pace.

"Any suggestions?" White asks.

"452 called me _Alec_, sir," 494 answers. "For smart-aleck."

White cants his head, thinking. "No, I don't like that. You're Cain, now." He smiles coldly. "Do you know that story, Cain?"

"Yes, sir," he replies. "Cain killed his younger brother Abel and was marked by a higher being called Yahweh."

White nods, smirking.

.

It's really no different from any other name he's worn. He's been Michael and Simon and Kurt and Alec—Cain's just another part.

White visits him more after naming him. He talks incessantly, telling Cain about his childhood and his job and his family. He tells Cain about the Familiars and how Max was humanity's last hope.

Cain thinks he should care, but he doesn't. Max is long dead and humans are nothing.

.

White gives orders and Cain follows them. He sucks White's cock and begs White to fuck his ass because White commands it.

White thinks he doesn't know, but the explosive was taken out weeks ago.

When White is loose and sated and mostly asleep, Cain snaps his neck.

It's his most satisfactory kill.

He takes his time leaving, shedding Cain as he goes. He'll need a new name and a destination.

Somewhere warm. He's so tired of the cold. He picks Florida and doesn't think to look back.

He names himself _Daimyo_ because he's finally his own lord.


	6. I saw the fields beyond the fields

**Title**: I saw the fields beyond the fields  
**Fandom**: "Supernatural"/"Dark Angel"

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Dar Williams

**Warnings**: future!fic for "Supernatural"; AU for "Dark Angel" during season one

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Wordcount**: 1155  
**Dedication**: taniapretender , for her birthday  
**Prompt**: Jess as an X5.

* * *

She wanders into the church one chilly autumn day. It is old and gilded, drafty. But comforting, in a religious sort of way.

Comforting. She snorts delicately and sinks down onto a pew.

Somewhere in this city two of her siblings are roaming. She can feel them.

She stays at church all night, stretched out on the pew. She doesn't sleep.

She has to put him down. He's dangerous to all of them. He's broken, can't be mended. They've all tried.

She raises her head when her sister strides in, regal and powerful as a queen.

Max, of course. Max the strong; Max, Lydecker's favorite.

One found, then.

o0o

She doesn't speak to Max, doesn't move. Max must be rusty, to not sense her. The priest talks to Max and then goes away.

And he walks in, the most beautiful of her brothers—lost, confused Ben. He briefly glances at her, but keeps going to his Lady's altar.

Max tries to stalk him, but he whirls to face her.

She doesn't stay to see how things play out; she already knows.

o0o

"Ben," she calls, entering the Needle, his High Place. "I know you're here, Ben."

"Jess," he says, stepping out of the shadows.

"You have to stop, Ben. You're endangering us all." She doesn't want to kill him. He's always been her favorite sibling; she loves him more than she ever has anyone else.

"I can't, Jessie." His voice is soft, his eyes fragile. "She needs the offering—it makes her strong."

Jess wants to weep. Oh, _Ben_. "Ben, please."

He smiles, slowly drifting closer. "I missed you, Jessie. You understand, don't you?"

He is only a hand's-length taller than her, his large hazel eyes full of determination. He seems so young; she's never felt this much older than her poor, deluded brother.

"Ben," she says gently, reaching out to touch his cheek. "You created her, remember? You made her for us."

He flinches back, eyes narrowing. "Don't say that, Jess." His body tightens, jaw clenching.

"Ben," she says sorrowfully.

He glares. "Leave me alone, Jess. I thought you understood."

She sighs, holding her hands open at her side. She honestly doesn't know who would win if they fought, and she doesn't want to hurt him. Has never wanted to hurt him.

Memories ache within her, those months they spent together after the escape. He took care of her and she adored him. Still adores him. But she sees him for what he is, now. The world beyond Manticore's walls is too much for him. So little makes sense out here.

She entreats, "Ben. You have to stop. Zack is hunting you."

He stiffens, straightening his spine. "Why?"

She steps forward. "To kill you, Ben. Because you're endangering us all."

Ben stares at her, nibbling his bottom lip.

An idea comes to her, and she wonders why she hadn't thought of it earlier. "Ben, I know a man who could help you. He…" She pauses, wondering how to explain so that Ben will listen. "He took me in, after we split up."

Ben lowers his head. "You tracked me down to kill me, didn't you, Jessie?"

She cannot lie to him. "Yes. But, please… come with me. Let me take you to him. Trust me that long."

He meets her gaze; by his eyes, she knows a part of him wants to die.

"Okay," he says, holding out a hand. "I've always trusted you."

She grips his hand, pulling him close to kiss his lips. "I love you, Ben," she whispers. Louder, she says, "He'll help you. I know he will."

It should have occurred to her before: if anyone can save Ben, can bring him back, it's Sam Winchester.

o0o

Ben follows her without question, always at her back. It takes them a month to reach Kansas and he balks at the state line. It's the one state she knows he's never set foot in.

"Ben?"

He looks down. "The Blue Lady," he says haltingly. "She told me nomlies live here."

She rubs his arm. "Trust me, Ben."

He takes a deep breath and murmurs, "Okay."

In the middle of Kansas, in an old house, lives the only other person in the world she'd unhesitatingly die for. After she and Ben had been driven apart for safety, he took her in, gave her shelter, and taught her how to live.

Jess knocks on the door, Ben clutching her hand, and knows everything will be alright now.

"It's open!" his voice calls, so she turns the knob.

"That's not safe!" she calls back, and chuckles when she hears a clatter.

"Jessica!" he exclaims, hurrying into the front hall. He pulls her into a hug, then swiftly pats her down for any injury.

"I'm fine, Sam," she tells him with a long-suffering sigh.

He nods, satisfied with his search. "Of course you are." He looks past her to Ben, and Jess watches in shock as his face pales. He falls back a step, eyes wide and mouth open.

"Dean," he whispers.

Jess looks over her shoulder at Ben, whose face mirrors Sam's. He steps around her, one hand outstretched, looking younger than she can ever remember.

"Dean," Sam says again.

"Sammy," Ben replies, sounding confused. "You're Sammy, but didn't I dream you?"

Sam says, "Jess, I need an explanation right now."

He already knows most of the story, but she tells him everything again.

o0o

Ben falls asleep soon after dusk, curled up on Sam's couch. Jess and Sam watch him for awhile and finally Sam stands. "I need to show you something," he tells her, gently spreading a blanket over Ben. "I probably should have showed you a long time ago."

She follows him through the house, down into the basement. In faint, flickering light, Sam kneels beside a strongbox, flicks the catch, and reverently lifts the lid. "This was my life before the Pulse, Jessica."

He stands back up, one of the few men who's ever towered above her. "Take your time. I'll watch over Dean."

She jerks her gaze from the box in time to see his face crumple in pain. "Ben, I mean. I'll take care of Ben."

"Sam," she says, trepidation dancing in her belly. She does not want to look in that box.

"Please, Jessica." He's the only one who's ever called her that. "You need to understand."

His tone is identical to Ben's, and she smoothly sinks to sit next to the box.

He goes. Jess sucks in a breath, counts to twenty, and reaches into Sam's past.

o0o

Five hours, she sits there and stares at the pictures. Ben. Herself. With a much younger Sam.

Written on the back of one with her tucked into Sam's arms are the words _Sam and Jess, 2005._ She doesn't recognize the handwriting. Written on the back of one that has Sam and Ben are the words _Dean and Sammy, 1999_.


	7. Acting

Title: acting

Disclaimer: not my characters

Warnings: none

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 510

Point of view: second

* * *

You are what you are and you do not apologize for that. You do not make excuses or pretend otherwise; the face you present to the world, to the Jam Pony workers, to the strangers you pass on the street — it is a mask, yes. But to those who know what you are, what you used to be, what you used to do... you do not act for them.

You do not play the game she plays. You never hide what you are.

She is angry at you for that. And jealous.

And a little frightened.

You do not fit in a small box; you cannot be written off or shunted into a corner. She cannot plan for you or prepare for you, cannot predict what you will do.

You have power over her because of that, more than anyone else she knows. She pretends she isn't more, isn't better; you don't. She's tried to turn her back on the knowledge in her blood, tried to turn away from training and memories that haunt her sleep; you never have.

You are what you are and you will never apologize for that. You will not make excuses for something you did not cause, something you did not want, something you had no part in and could not help.

You are a predator, a soldier, a killer—bred, born, and raised. You are danger, a liar, an actor. You are the training in your blood, the pain in your past, the killing lust that wells up when you are angry or hurt. You are a panther disguised as a kitten, a hurricane hidden as a light spring rain.

You do not hide the predator within; the world does that for you, happily. You are beautiful, and beautiful people are written off easily.

You would have thought she'd really see you, since you never truly hide.

But ten years outside has dulled her. You are the best you've ever been.

And she never wonders how she always wins, though she should. She never pauses to think, to remember—she sees Ben, Manticore, her failures… but never _you_.

You won't bother to tell her. It'd be a waste of time, of breath. So you smile and smirk and do the expected. You are not hiding, not pretending, but they'll see what they want.

And if it gives you an advantage, well…

Max should know better. You are what you are and you will not apologize. You will not pretend to be anything else.

And if she's thrown off a little, if she feels a thrill of fear she can't explain—she's right to.

Too bad(for her) that she'll shake it off and go about her life.

She's forgotten to be 452. You've never forgotten to be 494.

Perhaps madness is inherent in your blood.


	8. inheritance

**Title**: inheritance

**Fandom**: "Supernatural"/"Dark Angel" crossover

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun.

**Warnings**: future!fic for both shows; AU after season 4 for Supernatural

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PGish

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Wordcount**: 830

**Prompt**:Alec meets Sam or SamnDean

* * *

He blinks and it's ten years after the apocalypse. He's not in Miami anymore; the Space Needle is in the distance. Dean's nowhere in sight. Dean's nowhere in sight or hearing and there's a gaping hole in Sam's mind.

He blinks, the Space Needle looming a few miles away. He blinks, knowing something has gone horribly wrong.

He blinks and knows Dean is gone.

o0o

First things first, he researches the hell out of history. Ten years blank, a body older and harder than he remembers, powers he sure as hell hadn't honed all primed and ready—what's happened?

Some shit called the Pulse took America out of the running in world power. Something called transgenics being hunted down as mistakes and freaks and dangerous, but as far as Sam can see, humans have done worse to each other for less than survival.

No mention of Winchesters in any database he can find, but since the Pulse wiped out most records, that might not mean anything.

He still has no idea how he got here, where the last ten years have gone. He remembers Miami in summer of 2009, Dean by his side as they dealt with another coven of witches, three men and two women who'd been casting curses on anyone they didn't like.

Witches. Curses. _Shit_. He's been cast into the future, and with his luck, all the witches are dead. Since he's here, Dean must have flipped out and killed them all.

No way home. After everything, Heaven and Hell, Michael's sword and Lucifer's vessel—he clenches his fist, feeling the power to the depths of his soul, pulsing beneath his skin, pooling in his blood. So much power. More than he could have fathomed in Miami of 2009, more than he had when he killed Lilith while flush with her favored's blood.

But not enough to get back to Dean.

o0o

Sam is drunk when the doppelganger walks in, looking exactly like Dean had the year Sam left for Stanford. Sam stares at him, mouth open and eyes wide, fingers tight around his glass. It can't be Dean. He stretches out a tendril of power, seeking recognition, and it's not Dean.

But the kid flinches just the same, recoiling back from Sam's psychic touch, gaze flicking around the room to settle on him.

Just like Dean could do, in those last months before Miami.

o0o

The kid doesn't approach. He just sits at the table with the others he came in with, eyes constantly returning to Sam. Sam never looks away. He gently pushes his way past the kid's defenses, so subtly even Dean wouldn't have felt it. He learns everything there is to know about Alec in less than five seconds, seeping into his memories and his blood.

It's an invasion of privacy so complete there would no forgiveness if Dean's mirror ever learned of it. Sam's fine with that, because he has to know.

o0o

When Sam leaves, the kid follows within minutes. Sam's seething, his power lashing around him in small waves. The ground trembles so faintly, only those who know about it can sense it, and Sam's the only one in the whole world.

Manticore. He's aching to sink his teeth in and shake, rip the entire operation to its innards and spill the guts for all the world to see.

Knowing about transgenics from the news is one thing. Seeing it from the mind of one of their special projects is another entirely.

Alec slinks up to him like the panther in his genetic code, hesitant like a feral cat in the presence of a greater predator, and Sam's the best there's ever been. Alec doesn't look at him straight on, now that they're away from the crowd. Alone in the back-alley, lit up by flickering streetlights and a shadowed moon, Alec only glances at him in swift bursts, from the corner of his eye.

Sam waits for the boy to speak first, the boy who is his one connection to Dean left in this world.

Alec's been dreaming, Sam knows. Dreaming about yellow eyes and fire, about angels and demons and an apocalypse averted by the scantest of margins, about blood and salt and iron.

Alec's been dreaming about Dean's life. Sam wonders what Ben had dreamed about, before being put down. If that Ben were Lisa's kid or not. Where Ben Braedon might be now, whether he's Dean's son.

"Who are you?" Alec asks, finally pausing in his pacing. "Why—"

Sam's had a starring role in Alec's dreams for near-on a month, now. He blinks back tears, looking into Alec's huge hazel eyes. Dean's eyes. Dean's back in the past—somewhere in the last decade, he's died. Sam can feel it, the hole left gaping open in the world with no Dean Winchester to fill it.

"I'm Sam," he says. "And you're the closest thing I have to a brother."

The kid blinks, but Sam can sense Dean in his blood and that's enough.


	9. where the dream ends, the dreamer begins

**Title**: where the dream ends, the dreamer begins

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Quotes from "Pollo Loco"

**Warnings**: before "Hello, Goodbye"

**Pairings**: none, really. Minor leanings of Max/Alec and Max/Ben, maybe

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 780

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompts:** _misunderstanding, someone found who was thought to be gone, _and _happy ending_.

* * *

_Your strength is your faith, your belief in the Lady. Tell me you don't believe in her, and I'll let you go. I'm not a liar._

.

In her nightmares, she still hears her lost, deluded brother. She feels his neck in her hands, fragile, so easily broken. She feels his skin, clammy and warm; she feels his breath, faint and fading, on her cheek, ghosting by her ear.

He's gone, because she killed him. He's _gone_—

Because of his Lady.

.

Max had once believed in Ben's goddess, with all the fervent desire only a child can manage. She believed so strongly it nearly shattered her when the Blue Lady failed to save them all, that cold and terrifying night.

But she survived. Max always survives.

.

She looks at Alec and knows he's not Ben. They're nothing alike. But sometimes all she sees is the brother dead by her hand. Her poor, lost brother, unable to handle the imperfections of the world beyond Manticore's cold and impersonal walls.

He had been their dreamer. He had been their dream. And to remember him broken, begging for a reason, for an answer, for _anything_—

She looks at Alec, with guilt and anger, and rants at him in place of her brother. He's all that's left of her long-gone Ben.

.

There isn't anyone she can speak to about Ben. Zach is beyond reach, Logan wouldn't understand, and Cindy has already heard too many of her problems.

There's always Alec… but no. Just no.

.

Ben was wrong, and Max knows it. He was begging her for salvation, at the end, for absolution, for everything to be over. He just wanted to rest.

But he's haunting her, now, never leaving her thoughts for long. His words echo, and his expression is readily available in her mind's eye. Fanatical, faithful, frightened. He, the best of all her brothers, had lost himself in the wide world, unable to cope.

It was agony to kill him. She'd never hurt so much before, and hasn't since. But it was what he wanted… needed… and a tiny, infinitesimal part of her reveled in it. The killer in her that Lydecker had always talked about. She wanted to grab that part of her and yank it out, cast it away—but she couldn't. Whenever guilt rises up, trying to overwhelm her, she wants Ben back, Ben to make everything better. But Ben is gone, so far out of reach… she cannot resurrect the dead.

So instead, she gives Alec a hard time, is crueler to him than he deserves, than he's ever earned. She never lets him off, always blames him for things he couldn't have even controlled. It doesn't make her feel better, but it is so, so much easier.

.

She often sees flashes of her brother in his twin, little shimmers of the man she killed. Alec's smile sometimes looks like Ben's, and his laugh often has her glancing twice.

Max knows Ben is dead. Not only were her hands the ones that snapped his neck, but she has an ache inside that reassures her Ben is gone.

But Alec is walking and talking, a mirror image of her lost brother. Identical in every way, except the one that matters—their minds are different. Alec doesn't know of the Blue Lady, of the goddess Ben invented for scared, scarred children.

Alec doesn't know about _her_. Has never worshipped _her_. Has never begged for her aid, for comfort.

Alec isn't Ben, and that's why Max sometimes can't stand the sight of him.

.

He doesn't understand, she knows. He never met Ben. Never stood face-to-face with the man whose face he wears. He can't comprehend the pain that shears through her, every single time he says hello.

Max still dreams of that day in the woods, how his neck twisted in her grip. It's her worst memory, in a lifetime of horrific memories. She wants to beg forgiveness, but she doesn't believe in any god or goddess.

Sometimes, half-awake and half-asleep, she begins a prayer to Ben's Lady, but always catches herself before she finishes.

.

Her words, sarcastic and callous, echo in her mind, whenever she thinks of Ben _– we made her up. other kids had the Tooth Fairy and we had **her.**_

The look in Ben's eyes, on his face, scalds her now. She wasn't worthy of him. Never has been.

He was the best of them all, and she killed him. The world broke him, and she just completed the deed.

Alec is a mockery of her dream, and she loathes him for it. But a part of her… deep inside, a part of her loves him, if only for his face.


	10. And wild for to hold, though I seem tame

**Title**: And wild for to hold, though I seem tame

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Wyatt the Elder.

**Warnings**: AU for season two

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 280

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

494 snarls, pacing around in his cage. It had been so stupid, broadcasting that location. What did the bitch think would happen? A fairy tale, happily ever after for the little mutant freaks, the government soldiers? They were tools, nothing more, and once they became a burden—poof. Cauterized site and nothing else.

"Well, 494?" the government spook asks. Dark hair, dark eyes, cold voice, and a gun in hand. "Will you follow orders or should I put you down where you stand?"

494 knows he could dodge the first bullet, and probably the second, but not all. He hates this bastard, but he hates 452 more. "I'll do it," he says.

The spook raises an eyebrow.

494 growls low in his throat. "I'll do it, _sir_," he amends.

The spook smirks. "Not that I don't trust you," he says, nodding to one of his goons. The floor of the cages drops out from under 494 and he falls two stories to the ground, bracing himself for the impact. He stays crouched down and glances up at the spook. "We'll have to take precautions, of course. Make sure you don't run off like a scared little kitty." He leans over the rail, gun loose in his grip. "You understand."

"Yes," 494 grits out, staying still until ordered to move. "Sir."

He'll play the spook's game, for now. He'll find 452 and kill her. Then he'll deal with this bastard, whatever precautions he takes. 494's eyes track the ordinaries moving around, guns tight in their fingers. Weakness after weakness—he glances back to the spook, sauntering down the stairs.

Too many guns to make a move now, but 494 can wait.


	11. Selene's Sons

**Title**: Selene's Sons

**Fandom**: "Dark Angel"/"Supernatural" crossover

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun.

**Warnings**: AU for "Dark Angel" after "Pollo Loco"; spoilers for season two of "Supernatural"

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 655

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

Ben first dreamed of a little brother the night he escaped Manticore. He collapsed in the snow miles from the facility, more exhausted and exhilarated than he'd ever been before, and he dreamed of himself as a brother, watching out for a little boy named Sammy.

He woke and felt cheated to be alone.

o0o

Ben began enjoying sleep, because it continued the adventures of him and Sammy. Sammy always called him _Dean_, but Ben didn't mind. He'd never been alone before the break out, and whenever he dreamed about Sammy, he wasn't lonely anymore.

o0o

The years passed and in his dreams _Sammy_ grew into _Sam_. Ben searched everywhere he went, looking for green eyes and floppy dark hair. He turned to his goddess for aid, but she didn't respond. He began hunting for sacrifices for her, hoping to please her.

Then one night, Ben dreamed of Dean's death. Sam collapsed beside Dean's body, screaming for his brother to wake up, but Dean didn't respond.

There were no more dreams after that.

Zach had told Ben that Max—the favorite of his sisters—had territory in Seattle, so Ben went there. She was family, and he sorely wanted family.

He wanted Sammy, the closeness Dean—the man with his face—and Sam had, but he'd never get it. He had no blood connections.

o0o

When Max snapped his neck, Ben thought he'd die. There was no pain, just… nothing. And then he found a soft light and a lady in a blue robe who told him to go back, he wasn't finished yet.

_You have a twin brother, Benjamin_, she said. _He is still held prisoner in Manticore. Save him._

Ben promised, _I will, Lady._

She smiled, and her dark eyes shifted to a holy yellow. _I know you will, my child. You always were my special boy. _

o0o

Ben woke in a plastic bag and clawed his way out quickly. Alone in a van—on the way back for study, no doubt. So they could figure out what went wrong with him.

But he knew, now—the Blue Lady was real. And she had given him a mission. He would obey her command, prove himself worthy of her favor. He would save his brother.

o0o

Ben heard Lydecker order for him to be taken to the lab. There'd be no guard; after all, he was dead. Just two technicians carrying his body. Ben hid back in the bag, holding it closed. He allowed them to move him and waited till it was just him and the doctor.

He killed the doctor swiftly and tracked down the main office. His brother would either be 492 or 494, and he needed to find out where.

Three guards and four technicians in the office. He ripped through them like paper, then hacked the system.

X5-494, recently failed his first long-term mission, being held in the basement of the very facility Ben stood in.

Ben wasted no time. The alarm had yet to be raised, and he ghosted his way down, sidestepping guards and scientists. When he got to the cells, he listened for heartbeats. And there it was: his twin's pulse, slow and steady.

_You'll need a name_, Ben thought as he keyed in the code.

The door opened and Ben got his first look at his mirror image, huddled in the far corner, nearly comatose.

Ben stepped in, keeping his movements calm. "Hey, little brother," he murmured, kneeling before his twin. "I've come to get you out of here."

Eyes identical to his own blinked and focused on him. "Escape?" his brother rasped.

Ben nodded. "C'mon, Sammy," he said, holding out a hand. "You have to make the first move—I'll take care of the rest."

His twin studied his hand before lifting his own.

o0o

In a prison of blood and flesh and bone and fear, a yellow-eyed shadow howled—whether with mirth or pain, no one but it knew.


	12. no escape

**Title**: no escape

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: spoilers for season 2

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 160

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Alec/Ben (in Alec's head), Ben talking to him during his stay in jail during Hello, Goodbye.

* * *

_You're a hunter_, Ben tells him. _A predator_.

"Shut up," Alec mutters, arms tight around himself.

_We can leave_, Ben cajoles. _So easily. They can't stop us_.

Alec tried covering his ears hours ago. He tried singing, tried meditating, tried picking fights so the guards would beat him and he could focus on that instead. No dice. Nothing worked.

Ben is in his head. Alec knows he didn't kill Timothy Ryan, and he knows Ben went crazy, and he also knows that they have DNA evidence the murder is on his hands.

Alec's no fool.

_They're weak_, Ben purrs, and Alec glances towards the door. He can hear them on the other side, sloppy and slow. _Get out of this cage, brother_.

It would be so easy.

"No," he whispers, hunching over. "I'm not a killer anymore."

_We're predators, Alec_, Ben murmurs, and Alec can see the smirk on that identical face. _We'll always be killers. It's in our blood_.


	13. the good soldier

**Title**: the good soldier

**Fandom**: "Supernatural"/"Dark Angel" crossover

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: AU for "Pollo Loco"; future!fic for "Supernatural"

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 580

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Dedication**: _pixel_0_ for her birthday

**Prompt**: _Anything dark and creepy is most welcomed. Maybe something a'la Poe? Or just, like serial killer boys a'la Ben from Dark Angel? So, dark!Winchesters or Ben being Ben or dark!Alec?_ I went with Ben being Ben, and a dash of Winchesters with their demons.

* * *

_Hello, Ben, my beloved son_, the Blue Lady said, helping to his feet_. You have done well._

_My Lady, _he said, lifting a hand to his neck. He looked around, at the mist, unable to see past it. _What—am I dead?_

_Only if you want to be._ She cupped his cheek in her soft, warm hand, eyes the color of clouds. _I can send you back, Ben. You will have a duty, something you alone can fulfill. Or you can rest._ She smiled up at him, her blue cloak and dark hair gently dancing in the breeze.

_Let me serve you_, he said.

The Blue Lady pulled his head down and pressed her lips to each eyelid. _I bless you, Ben, my special boy. You will hunt non-believers and convert or kill them. Their hearts will strengthen me, Ben. I need more than their teeth now._

_Yes, my Lady. _He dropped his knees, bowing low.

_We're at war_, she told him, hand on the crown of his head. _You are the best of my soldiers. The others have begun doubting me._

He blinked up at her_. But—you are the Lady!_

_I know. _She sounded sad. _I don't understand, Ben. Their faith wasn't strong enough._

He clung to her hand. _I will hunt them,_ he promised. _They will learn_.

She smiled_. My good boy_, she murmured. _The best of all._

o0o

Soldiers were around him when he opened his eyes in the woods, Lydecker's fingers on his neck.

His Lady's voice echoed, his duty, his mission. He felt strong, his broken knee healed, his mind at peace.

_Hunt for me_, the Lady whispered. _I need hearts_.

Lydecker fell back and the soldiers raised their guns, but he had never been faster. He killed them all in a blink and then ripped open their ribcages to give his Lady their hearts.

_You'll know the traitors by their scent, Ben_, the Blue Lady told him. _They stink of sulfur. Track them and call my name. When the time comes, I'll show you what to do._

He left the bodies for the scavengers, but the dozen hearts he ate. His body was the Lady's temple and what strengthened him would strengthen her.

Ben hurried deeper into the woods. He needed to find somewhere to clean up; being covered in blood would only get him in trouble with human authorities, and while they were no longer the threat they'd been, they'd slow down his mission.

He followed the clean scent of water to a lake, far from Seattle and half a mile from the road. He stripped and dove in, relishing the cool liquid on his skin. The Lady was a distant presence now, but he remembered her hand on his face, her voice.

Whoever had betrayed her, those weak soldiers without faith—he would hunt them and make them pay before taking their hearts.

After he'd scrubbed the blood off him and washed his clothes the best he could, Ben stretched out on the ground and tried to rest. In his dream, the Lady fought a man with sun-yellow eyes, a man larger than anyone Ben had ever seen. The man called her Lilith and cursed her and swore to kill her for something she'd done to someone named Dean.

When Ben woke, the Lady was completely gone. He knew she needed hearts to make her strong enough to defeat the yellow-eyed man, so with the sun barely up, Ben got dressed and started hunting.


	14. come touch a copy of you

**Title**: come touch a copy of you

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: fluctuating tenses; future!fic

**Pairings**: none stated

**Rating**: PG  
**Wordcount**: 390

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: Dark Angel, Max/Alec (friendship or more), "You don't know what you're talking about, Max"

* * *

_You don't know what you're talkin' about, Max,_ he'd said. Softly, almost gently, with a look in his eyes she'd never seen before, not on his face.

Maybe, it's that she never looked.

_Tell me about Ben,_ he'd said, and she'd thought he was giving her a hard time. She was stressed, and annoyed at the world, and angry at White and humanity and all the people counting on her but not understanding that she wasn't perfect.

And Alec just let himself into her room and asked about the brother dead at her own hand.

So, yeah, she lashed out. Knew he could take it. He could always take it and bounce back, but then she mentioned Rachel and the fucking virus that still keeps her from Logan and when Alec almost killed her and Joshua.

And Alec just looked at her. Anger and sorrow and pain in his eyes, a split second, and then he closed off and he said, _You don't know what you're talkin' about, Max._

Which is always the case when it comes to him. From the moment he walked into her cell, to when he asked about his dead twin brother, she has never understood him.

He's different from her and everyone else in Terminal City, everyone she's ever met.

_You don't know what you're talkin' about, Max,_ he said, and then, _Later, Maxie,_ as he let himself out of her room.

It was less than a minute before she took off after him, but he was gone, and that was three days ago. He's not in the City anymore, and she honestly doesn't know if he'll be back.

Everyone's angry at her for it, Mole and Joshua and Gem and everyone.

She's angry at herself.

She hopes he comes back. She'll tell him about Ben if he does, all the stories Ben used to make up, how warm and safe she felt with his words twining around her, how glad and heartbroken she was when he showed up in Seattle. Ben, who'd been the best of them, once upon a time, their dreamer and their dream, the brightest. The most broken.

_Tell me about Ben,_ he'd said, wearing Ben's face, in that same voice Ben had said _when you wake up in the morning—_

She'll tell him, if he comes back.


	15. I stood among them, but not of them

**Title**: I stood among them, but not of them

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Byron.

**Warnings**: AU for "Hello, Goodbye"

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PGish

**Wordcount**: 530

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

Alec plays nice in jail until Max leaves him there to rot. He watches her stalk out, every inch the injured feline, so sure in herself. So sure she's right about him.

She has so rarely been right about him, but after all these months of never being good enough, of being blamed for everything, he's _done_.

He didn't kill Timothy Ryan. He's never heard of Timothy Ryan. He wishes he did have a clue who the dude was, though, just so he had the satisfaction of tearing out the bastard's throat for getting him into this mess.

_You think I'm a cold-blooded killer, _he muses, letting the officer shove him down the hall. _You think I could just take a life, just reach out and snap a neck_. He studies the officer for a moment, weighing the consequences.

If he does this, he can never come back. Max will probably try to hunt him down. He turns his head slightly, watching the pudgy man. Easy prey. So easy.

The cat in him purrs as he strikes. He's tired of playing nice, of sheathing his claws and hiding his fangs. He's tired of letting Max kick him around like she's better.

She's not. She's really not, and the next ordinary dies just as quick. Alec's a predator, down to the deepest part of him. He's a predator and he hasn't truly hunted since Max burned Manticore to the ground like she was doing a _favor_ for all the poor bastards still trapped inside.

He snarls, tearing his way through a room full of screaming, crying ordinaries. Did the stupid bitch even _think_ before pushing that button? She should have _known_ how Renfro would react.

Alec stands in the middle of his dead or dying prey, savoring the scent of blood. _Keep moving_, the cat in him counsels. _Find new territory_.

He stretches, shaking out his spine, and listens. Nothing moves. Nothing breathes. He grins and lightly walks out of the station.

Back in Manticore, no one ever told him what 493(Ben, brother, twin) did to earn him that six-month stay in Psy-Ops. He only ever learned that 493 had a defect. They wanted to be sure it wasn't genetic.

Alec's pretty sure he just beat Ben's body-count. And now he should leave town. Let Max and White have each other. Get out and go somewhere warm, where he can just sit and soak in the sun. Take naps and not worry about ordinaries or Manticore breaking in, wanting him dead for simply existing.

_South_, the cat says. Alec checks both ways before crossing the street. Is there anything in this town he wants? Well, besides to kick the ever-living shit out of Max, and possibly tear her intestines out of her still-warm corpse for leaving him in jail, just writing him off without even listening, after all the favors he's done her.

_Nope_, he thinks. _Not one damn thing in this crap-hole for me_.

The cat insists, _South. East. Warmth and light_.

So Alec heads southeast. Let Max and White have each other. He's done. She thinks he's a cold-blooded killer, and that's the one thing she's ever gotten right.


	16. Brittle

**Title**: Brittle

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: spoilers for everything

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG13

**Wordcount**: 460  
**Point of view**: third

* * *

There's something brittle in Alec's laugh, something Max is scared she never noticed before. Sometimes she looks at him and swears she sees Ben peering back from those hazel eyes.

Ben broke, somehow, shattered by the world and his own expectations, and now Alec's laugh sounds like Ben's, that final night atop the Needle.

.

She knows she's hard on him, harder than she's ever been on anyone else. He just annoys her so easily, prickles her defenses, and she knows no other way to be. Other people bend beneath her fury, realize instinctively that she can destroy them, even if they don't understand. But Alec—he just grins or smirks, and hits right back.

He attacks with words, too, and distantly, a part of her knows when their fists fly that he's holding back.

Always holding back.

And that scares her just as much as his brittle laugh.

.

She remembers Ben as a boy, the storyteller, the one who took frightened children away from their pain and gave them hope.

She remembers Ben as a man, tattered and shattered, begging anything for explanation and redemption, for relief from the crushing weight of despair.

She remembers how it felt to grip his neck in her hands and the grief that shot through her when he let her _twist_.

.

Max knows she needs to stop pushing. She knows on a deep, primal level—Alec's been patient with her. Extremely patient. Anyone else would have lashed back by now.

She's watched him fight. She's seen him kill.

Terminal City and all its citizens need them both alive and healthy to keep everyone safe. They can't be picking fights with each other, not with White and his cult so close. Not with the humans waiting for them to fall.

She has to stop harping on him and sniping at him, before he finally decides it's time to prove just how dangerous he is—

Because Alec is not Ben and will not let her kill him.

No matter how alike their laughter is.

.

He fights at her back, by her side, with her against all comers. She's given up trying to figure out what the angle is, what he really wants. Maybe he is a good man, after all. Maybe he's finally found a cause.

Maybe he's killing time, waiting for something, but she never ponders that route for long.

.

Mole tells them about the next mission they have to go on. Logan berates Alec for letting a transgenic kill a human that got in the way. Max isn't sure whose side to be on.

When Alec smiles, it's a hollow shell.

When Alec laughs, it's a brittle sound.

Max meets his eyes and isn't sure if it's Alec or Ben or someone entirely new looking back.


	17. goodness is no name

**Title**: goodness is no name, and happiness no dream

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Byron

**Warnings**: future!fic; if you infer what I've implied, sexual child abuse

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG  
**Wordcount**: 165

**Point of view**: third

**Prompt**: bishonen

* * *

Alec knows that he's attractive. All X5s are; it was mixed in with cat and a dozen other things.

He was trained to use it, too. Maxie escaped before those lessons, so she really is without a clue. Instinct helped her, using her natural beauty to her advantage—life is a cruel teacher. Almost as cruel as Manticore.

But inside Terminal City? Dozens of animals caged together? You need more than instinct. More than can be taught on the streets. Max has personal charm, but she's no leader. She lacks foresight. And Alec… well, he's stealing Terminal City out from under her and she hasn't caught on yet. He learned everything Manticore taught, and he learned it well.

Maxie is strong, and she is brave, and she'll watch wide-eyed as he challenges her and drops all masks.

Alec is too pretty to be dangerous. Like a cat. And he grins at Maxie, showing all his teeth. He's been studying her.

He'll win.


End file.
